Poison in the Blood
by Ravenly
Summary: UPDATE SOON! Rewrite happening now, story is almost done! With a bitter Amber on her trail, Shilo is on the run for her life. With the help of Graverobber and Pavi Largo, can she escape the horror that is unleashed on her when the dead come back to life? Whole Repo! cast. Sexual themes & acts, language. Plz R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am quite aware that I did not come up with this wonderful world. The characters within this story, all but a very few, all came from the thoughts and dreams of other talented writers. I am merely a vessel for a little bit of my own fic set in this world. I make no money, so don't sue. I just love Repo! so much I needed to let a little of my love shine out. Sorry if things seem a little OC or off from the original story, I know and I have a plan. I swear. I'm trying to follow the sub plots that were left out of the movie, so I'm taking some liberties here and there. I also make the assumption that there are many Repomen and that they all have code names, that Nathan's was Night Surgeon So you know why I make references to that. Oh, and feedback to writers is like water to flowers so, water a writer today!

Poison in the Blood

Chapter One

Where to now?

"Free at last," she said softly. Then louder, almost screaming it, "Free at last!"

Shilo held her head high, aware of all the eyes on her. Aware of the surviving Largo's arguing loudly on the stage. "GeneCo's mine!" "No, mine!" "No, brothers! It's mine mine _mine_!" Aware of all the people whispering her name, "Repoman," and "Blind Mag."

Her whole life no one has known her name, no one has even known of her _existence_. Now people were calling out to her, reaching for her, trying to touch her.

She shook them off.

Shilo stepped out the door of the opera house and into the blinding light of the dawning new day. The long long night was finally over and the city was awakening to a rebirth. Everything was changing now.

Rotti's limo driver stood among a mob of reporters; flashes going off and people yelling all at once, a jumble of voices mingling. Upon seeing her, the driver held the car door open, as though he had been waiting for her. Shilo stared at it for only a moment before stepping in and leaning back against the oh so soft leather seat letting her eyes drift closed. Her mind was swimming in all different bloody directions, so many thoughts battering her brain like a pair of betta fish trapped in the same bowl.

All she wanted to do was sleep.

She heard the rustle of leather against leather. Her eyes popped open. Rotti's henchgirls sat across from her, expressionless and stone still. _How did they get here so fast...?_ The blonde leather clad twins looked at one and other sharply, then snapped their heads back to face her. The one on the left leaned forward and handed Shilo an envelope. "From Mr. Largo," she said. Shilo looked down at it in her hand and frowned. "He's dead." They didn't respond. "He killed my father." She griped the envelope tightly and they still didn't respond. Impassive.

"Get out," she whispered. Looking up at them, "Get out!!" she growled. The one on the right handed her a wrist cuff similar to her own, but gold and very heavy compared. _Dad gave me this when I was five. _"Call when you need us." They slid from the car like liquid and snapped up straight, their boots clinking on concrete. The door slammed closed and any reporters that had been trying to peer into the darkened windows all stepped back at the sight of the henchgirls.

Shilo stared down again at the envelope in her hand, her fingers smearing blood over the crisp white paper. Her hands and arms, even her hair, were smeared with the sticky red stuff. _Mag's blood. Dad's... _She shoved it and the cuff into her bag, not wanting to look at them, not sure what to do with them either. The window between her and the driver slid down, Driver's face turned slightly to look at her questioningly. "Take me to my mother's grave." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest again. The window went back up and they began to move.

She didn't know where to go.

The world was hers now. She supposed she could go anywhere in it she wanted. She _was_ free after all. All she had ever wanted was to be able to be outside. She just... didn't know _where_to go. Or how to get there, or what to do once she _was_ there. She'd never been alone before. She'd always had her father to take care of her. _Dad_.

So Marni's grave was the only place that came to mind right now. She wanted, no, _needed_ to be some place familiar to gather her thoughts. Plan her future. Although her bed would be a welcomed place right now, it had been a very long night, she didn't want to see any of her father's things. So even her home was out of the question.

"Dad," she whispered softly, pressing her fingers to her eyes, her head throbbing. Her wrist cuff started to go off. She wretched it free from her arm and when the limo stopped, she darted out the door quickly, not waiting for Driver to open it, and threw it as hard and as far as she could.

"Miss?" The driver raised his bushy eyebrows looking at her from over the top of the car. "Go away," She yelled at him. "Go back to GeneCo or...or where ever. Just...just go away." Softly, "leave me alone." She ran to the crypt, shoving open the door then let it close heavily behind her. She leaned back against it, staring up into the face of a mother she never knew. Marni's pictures had decorated her home, her room, memorials to a woman who died at her birth. Her black veiled body had kept a silent vigil over her room at the other end of the hall.

Her resolve was fading away, she was starting to shake. "Oh, Mom," her voice was beginning to crack. She knew her mother really wasn't in the grave, but... "Mom, Dad's...Daddy's..." She slid down the door to the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs and burying her face in her knees. "Oh Mom, Dad, what am I going to do now?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Inside GeneCo

He chuckled softly, running his tongue around her hard nipple. Actually, her whole breast was hard. Hard and unmoving. Two or three breast augmentations, always larger, always rounder, had taken all the feelings of normality from them. His eyes darted up to to her face, her own eyes closed and mouth parted slightly, and wondered if she even felt _this_ at all. Probably not. But the look on her face as he thrust into her, hard, told him that she did feel _that_. He chuckled again. Her eyes slid open, blue the color and shine of zydrate looking out of a remodeled face.

Her legs, still fitted with her knee high white leather stilettos, were wrapped around his ass, pulling him in her more. Deeper. Her hands were threaded in his hair, threatening to pull it out. Leaning up on her elbows she sank her teeth into his shoulder as she came. With a hiss of pain he pushed her back down, hand on her chest, and picked up his pace. She was thrashing around him. He was hurting her. Neither of them cared.

It had been three days since the fateful opera and two since Amber Sweet had announced to the world that she would be the new "face" of GeneCo. This was the first time that the Graverobber had been in the GeneCo higher offices in ten years or more. They were in Amber's new office, her desk contents thrown to the floor when she had pushed him down on top of it and mounted him. "Graverobber," she'd whispered, going into their familiar routine. "Sometimes I don't know why I need you at all. Other times..." she'd unbuttoned his belt and fly and proved what she needed him for. His eyes had slid closed, but it wasn't Amber's face he pictured as she slipped him into her mouth. A pale face with dark hair haunted his mind's eye.

She'd stripped nude, all but the boots, but he had stayed pretty much clothed himself; his pants just down to his knees. Even his coat still on. Amber was fun to play with from time to time, though it had been a very long while, but truly not worth any real effort.

Her eunuch valets had tripled in number since the last time he'd seen her. They keep an eye on them from the other side of the room, but stood impassive and expressionless.

She screamed out his name, digging her nails into his shoulders. It was his cue and he pulled out the zydrate gun, pressing it against her inner thigh. "No!" she said, shoving it away. His eyebrows raised but said nothing as he thrust into her a few more times, finishing, then quickly pulled out. "No?" he asked, tilting the gun in his hand as he struggled with his pants with the other.

She stretched, cat-like, sliding her body against the desk. Since he had last seen her she had had her face fixed and held much more firmly in place and a new color added to her eyes making them shine like zydrate. She'd been tucked and molded and sucked and shaped so much she barely looked human anymore. She looked like a plastic doll.

He held back the urge to shutter, realizing what he had just done with...that.

"It's not what I asked you here for," she said huskily, her eyes drifting closed. She waved her hand in the air dismissively, "I can get that myself, now."

"Perhaps...but mine is more fun." The Graverobber plopped down on the small couch set in front of the desk, tossing one long leg over the arm, the other stretched out before him. His eyes drifted around the room, trying to keep them off of her. "Don't tell me you wanted me here just for sex? It was fine and all, but your messengers," he nodded towards her gang of eunuchs, "said there was credits involved... Fun as this day has been so far, money _does_ makes the world go 'round." He plastered on his trademark grin.

Amber sat up lazily, three valets were suddenly at her side, lowering her down from the desk. They began the process of re-dressing her and snapping all the buckles back into place. "Graverobber," she tugged on a pair of white leather gloves and reached up to pat her hair, long and blonde today, braided into a coil at the top of her head and then down her back. He wondered absently where she got her wigs. "How would you like it if I took you off the most wanted list? If I made it so you could deal Z out of the alleys without worrying about the GENCops?"

His eyebrows raised curiously "I'm listening."

"Shilo Wallace."

_ Oh no. _"Who?" he fringed indifference

She stomped her foot, looking like an angry leather clad child. "You _know_ who!" Clothed now, she shoved her entourage away. Walking foot before foot she sauntered over to him, her fingertips brushing against his cheek as she moved around him, forcing him to turn his head to watch her. "I'm not stupid, Graverobber. I saw her with you at the support group." Her voice was husky, smoky. She wrapped her fingers in his hair and yanked on it, causing him to wince slightly.

"Oh. _Her_.You know names mean little to me." he said, grinning, somewhat amused that he had been caught. "Okay, so what about her?"

"I want her. Alive. Dead. I don't care." She leaned over, her breasts pressing against his head, running her free hand into his shirt and down his chest. He grabbed her wrist, his grin fading. "Amber, I rob the already dead. I do not have anything to do with getting them in that state. Why me? Why not send some of your repo-goons?"

She pouted. "I have. They can't fucking find her. Her home has been searched. They're looking for her all over the city." Her eyes turned colder somehow with their artificial light and she dug her nails into his chest. "I _know_ you helped her escape Pavi's tent at the carnival"

He nodded, once. "What do you want with her anyway? She's just a kid. And as I understand it she didn't do what your father asked..."

She leaned closer to him, nostrils flaring. "Find her," she whispered, not answering his question. "Kill her, or bring her to me if you are too weak to do it yourself." She let go of his hair, shoving his head forward. He looked back at her. The look on her face was not an overly friendly one.

It has only been a few days, but Amber has changed. Not just with the surgeries this time. The death of her father and taking over his company had made her harder, bitter, more dangerous somehow. She may be worse than Luigi now... "And if I don't do this?" he asked softly.

"Dear, _dear_, Graverobber." She smiled at him, looking like her old self again as she moved around him and sat down on him, rubbing her ass across his crotch. He threw his arm around her legs, pulling them together. "If you do not do this one _little_ job, this _tiny_ little thing I ask, I will have my Repomen come after _you_. And it will not be over quickly." She flipped her braid over her shoulder, leaning toward him, lips brushing his. "But if you _do_ this," her voice was a smoky whisper against his lips "I will give you anything. Everything you want and more."

* * *

Pavi Largo moved with ease into Amber's new office, a pair of GENterns pressed against his sides. Luigi Largo was trailing behind them, a look of quiet rage spread across his face. Amber's guards were busy picking up the contents of her desk top and placing them back onto the massive mahogany desk while Amber sat on its edge, legs crossed. She drummed her nails against the wood, face turned to look out the wall-length window overlooking the city.

"I don't know why we need _him_," Luigi snarled going over to stand next to Amber. He lifted his hand as if to touch her knee then balled it into a fist and put it behind his back. "You want her dead. I'll do it." Amber ignored him.

Pavi slapped his GENterns on the ass, effectively sending them back on their way. He sighed wistfully watching their backsides as they walked back to the elevators "Sister, please," he started, moving over to her other side. "Leave the little bella alone. All this was not her fault. She left without taking Poppa's offer. She forfeited everything he would have left her."

Amber's head snapped around, her new eyes glaring at him coldly. Her lip turned up slightly in disgust "Ug, don't wear that thing around me, Pavi. It's gross." He reached up to pat his face, _her_ face, to make sure it was in place. _But it's beautiful_, he wanted to say but did not. Instead he moved back away from her, sitting down on the couch. Sadly his faces only lasted so long when worn all the time. Perhaps he should put hers away for a little while and wear it only at special occasions.

"Taking over or not," Luigi slammed his fist into his palm, "she's turned us all into laughing stocks just by Pop offering it to her." He growled "That little bitch deserves to be taught a lesson." He looked back at Amber then away again. "I don't understand what we need the necro-theif for. _I_ can teach her that little lesson." He grabbed his crotch to prove his point. "Fuck the little brat. Then I'll cut her into little bits and fuck her some more!"

"Brother, please," Pavi pleaded. "She's just a little girl. Besides, she has nothing now. We have it all!" He spread his arms wide to emphasize the vastness of their empire and laughed.

Luigi smiled then joined him, laughing. "True, true. Pop didn't have time to change his will. We're still in it. We still own GeneCo. _We_ rule the world. Little bitch ain't got nothin' on that."

"Wrong!" Amber jumped down from the desk. She poked a finger at Luigi's chest. "She showed us all up. Showed us that Daddy..." her voice broke. Balling her hands into fists at her side she screeched wordlessly. Luigi put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. She pushed him off. "This!" She picked up a GeneCo folder from the desk and shoved it against Luigi's chest. "This is why she must pay."

* * *

Graverobber was escorted out of the GeneCo offices by two of Amber's valets. He could have told them that he probably knew the inside of this building better than they did, but decided it would be better off for him in the long run if Amber never knew how easily he could slip in and steal whenever he really needed to. True, he made plenty of money selling Z on the streets, and there were few things more exciting then just nearly being caught by GENCops as he raided graveyards after dark.

However, there are some things to be said about a good B&E. And breaking into one of, if not _the, _most powerful businesses in the world was a rare high. Never mind the fact that he really had a key.

At this moment, he would really rather not get on Amber's bad side. He sighed softly, not his usual jubilant self as they rounded corner after corner in this maze of an office building. Of course, he couldn't help but look at the GENterns they passed, their white uniforms cut dangerously low and ending dangerously high, pale panties threatening to peek out with every step they took. "Excuse me, nurse, can you come look at this? I have a growth in my pants." No one but himself was amused.

He was shoved, roughly, out a door and into an alleyway. Stumbling he caught himself before he could crash into the wall of the neighboring building. "Hey, wa'chit!" a bum in ragged clothes clutching a bottle of blue-green absinthe shoved past him, stumbling down the way.

The Graverobber straightened himself up and tugged on the furred collar of his coat. He tipped an imaginary hat to the two musclebound goons, shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled tunelessly, heading out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

**I am hoping to do updates about once a week. I have two very little kids as well as a time consuming job, but this story is taking up pretty much all of my free time. I hope ya'll are enjoy it so far. I would really like to get a few reviews.**

**Feedback to writers is like water to flowers, so water a writer today.**

Chapter Three

Back to the Beginning

* * *

The Graverobber had only vague ideas of where someone like Shilo Wallace could hide if she wasn't in her home. Her picture had been plastered over every news paper, scalpel mag, and hologram around the city. If she was smart she would have taken a boat off Sanitarium Island the night everything went down. Somehow he didn't think she had done that, though. Not because she wasn't smart, just...naive. If what he had read in the latest issue of Metro Gazette was right, though_that_ wasn't too likely, Shilo had been hidden from the world all of her seventeen years. The night they met, in fact, would have been the first time she'd ever been outside.

The Graverobber sighed softly as unbidden images of her popped into his mind's eye. The way her lips parted slightly, her head turned just so at her first look at zydrate. The annoyed look when he rescued her from Pavi's tent. The unguarded gawk of shocked disgust at the scalpel slut who first talked to her in the support network alley. Even the almost comical look on her face when she found him hanging upside down. Pale face, dark hair, beautiful inquisitive eyes.

He ran his hand over his face. _Seventeen? God, I'm twelve years older than her. Still...she is older than I was when..._ He shook the thought away.

No, he doubted very much that Shilo had boarded a boat and gotten the hell off Sanitarium Island. He wasn't really sure how far outside of the city GeneCo's arms reached, but he knew she would never be allowed on a boat now. She was too recognizable. All of GeneCo was looking for her. With that being the case, the fact that she hadn't been seen in four or five days now... How the hell was _he_ supposed to find her? He'd only met her that one night. Sure he knew where her home was, the sprawling Victorian in one of the best neighborhoods in the city. But they'd already looked there. Where else would she be? And what the hell was he going to do if he _did_ find her?

"The graveyard," he said to himself. "Where I first met her. Maybe there? Maybe back to the beginning?" Of course, if she wasn't there, there was also that large crypt filled with the GeneCo repossessees. Probably all of her father's victims. A night of grave-robbing would not be a waste and with that room he could stock up on enough Z to last six months, or more. Long enough, hopefully, for him to lie low and let Amber forget what she'd asked him.

It took half the night to get there from the GeneCo building in the middle of the city. So few people still had cars, gas to run them was far too expensive and cabs were more then he'd ever willingly pay.

Dodging in and out of shadows avoiding GenCops and scalpel sluts took time and fineness. At one point he had climbed a fire escape to hide from a pair of GenCops who then decided to stop and have their lunch under the very same ladder he had just climbed. His stomach growled as he watched them eat from the shadows, but he wasn't willing to be side tracked by that right then.

When he finally got there, he found the graveyard blessedly empty and silent. Someone had ripped down the "Graverobbers will be EXECUTED on site" sign. He chuckled softly, rapping his knuckles against the wall where it had hung. "Now," he said, a little tune in his voice, "where was she...?"

_She was chasing a glowing bug of some sort. Outside a tomb. It was where she had jumped off the trash truck...Hmmm._ He cast his eyes around, trying to remember exactly where, when he saw it. "Wallace" written over the arched doorway. "Jackpot," he said, then smiled cockily as he saw the opening he had made in the wall close by, the mass-grave room. "One quick look. Just a little peek. Then Z hunting I will go." Casting a look around himself, he pushed open the door and quickly stepped inside.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, it was dark. He blinked a few times, making sure his eyes really were open.

There was a beeping coming from somewhere behind him and to his left. It hurt to turn his head towards it, but he could see a soft green glow from the corner of his eye. The light wasn't enough to illuminate anything so his eyes couldn't adjust to the gloom. The sound was somehow familiar, but he couldn't place it. It was both reassuring and unnerving.

It was cold.

He was nude.

Laying flat on a hard table. Bed. Something uncomfortable and cold against his back. When he tried to lift his arms it was to find that they were bound tightly to his sides. He couldn't lift them so much as an inch. Trying to ball his hands into a fist was hard, too. His fingers were stiff and he was weak. His head hurt. His chest hurt. There was cold air blowing directly on him. His teeth was chattering.

And he had no idea where the hell he was.

Licking his lips found them to be dry and cracked. He needed something to drink. "Hello?" he squeaked. His voice was as dry as his lips. He coughed and swallowed, then tried again. "Hello?" Better. "Anyone there?" He waited. There was no response.

He was afraid.

* * *

It was pitch black. All the candles in the tomb had long burned out with no one there to replace them. "So few take care for the dead anymore," Graverobber said softly. His last vial of zydrate came out of a hidden pocket on the inside of his coat. The soft blue light cast shadows in the corners of the room. It was just bright enough for him to see that the tomb was empty except for a gas mask in one corner and the lacquered portrait of a beautiful woman above the grave.

"Marni Wallace

2011 – 2040

Beloved Wife To Nathan

Mother to Shilo

May her Soul

Rest in Peace"

Shilo's mother. _She looks just like her,_ he thought, bringing the light up closer to the painting. _Beautiful._ He could see why Rotti and the Repoman had fought over her.

The light cast a strange dark shadow against the inset of the wall behind the painting. The Graverobber cocked his head to the side, reaching out to touch it. His fingers passed through into the empty air beyond. "Ah," he smiled, "little secrets everywhere."

Pushing against the door proved to do little good. It moved only slightly as though caught on something. He put the glass vial in his mouth, griping it lightly with his teeth. He slipped the fingers of both hands into the gap and pulled with everything he had. The door gave way, finally, sliding into a hole in the wall. Putrid air hit him in the face as black boot fell out.

"Oh shit!" The vial fell from his lips and crashed to the floor, breaking. Shilo lay in a heap on the steps leading into a tunnel beyond the crypt. "Kid?" He moved into the cavern, trying to see by the dying light. _Fuck!_ "Kid? Talk to me." He slid off one of his gloves, feeling her neck for a pulse. It was there. She was breathing! But white foam was drying at the corner of her mouth. Vomit covered the floor around her face. When he touched her she began to convulse.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

She was in withdrawal. He'd seen it enough times to know what it looked like. _She's been here all this time... _

He lifted her head up with a hand at the back of her neck, her wig slid back, pale scalp showing beneath. "Kid, kid, snap out of it." He tapped her cheek with the back of his free hand. Her eyes slid open slowly, unfocused at first. She was shivering uncontrollably. Her body was icy cold and covered in a sticky layer of dried blood and grave dust. She finally saw him, a ghost white face peering at her from the darkness; cocky grin wiped completely from his face. "You again?" she moaned softly; then her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she was still.

"Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you too," he grumbled softly, but happy to have gotten a response. He lay her gently back down and pulled his long coat off to wrap it around her. She was going to freeze before he could figured out what to do with her.

The blue glow from the broken vial was all but gone when a light flashed through the grating of the tomb door. The Graverobber dropped to his stomach on reflex, looking up through his mass of multi-hued hair at the door. "Shilo Wallace. We know you are in there. Vacate immediately." _Shit, shit, fuck! I don't need this now!_ Heavy boots were thumping up to the tomb, wavering lights shining inside. Damn, he should have bolted the door behind him.

Jumping liquidity back onto his feet, he kicked Shilo's feet away and reached for the hidden door, pulling it shut and locking them in the darkness just as the tomb door fell in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, sorry to anyone who is getting alerts to this being updated. I've posted this like three times now. I keep changing my mind on the placement of one part. Very sorry about that. I haven't changed anything except for the placement of the last part. I was the opening of this chapter, but I feel it will be a better closer because of the following chapter. I should have chapter five up tomorrow. I'm fine tuning it now.**

Chapter Four

Trapped

* * *

Time passed.

It was hard to tell how much in the darkness. Long enough for him to fall back asleep.

He dreamed. But he couldn't remember it. It seemed as though someone had been calling him from somewhere far away. Even his own name seemed to just slip through his mind without stopping where he could examine it close enough.

When he woke it was with tears running down his cheeks and a name on his lips. "Marni," he whispered.

_ Marni?_ He couldn't conjure up a face, or even an explanation, with the name, though he was sure it wasn't his own.

He didn't know what it was that woke him, exactly. It was still so dark, but something seemed to have changed. Looking around he realized the beeping was gone, as was the pale green glow.

And his hands.

He could move them.

He was no longer tied down.

Feeling for the edges of the table, it _was_ a table he was laying on, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and tossed his legs over the side.

"Hello?" he called as loudly as his scratchy voice would let him. "Is anyone there?" He slipped to the floor, bare feet hitting cold linoleum He almost collapsed and had to grab hold of the table to keep himself on his feet.

He felt so weak. His chest was burning.

A light came on. Bright, blinding, right in his face. Griping the table with one hand he put the other up to shield his eyes. "Wha-What's going on here?" He tried to ask with some authority, but it came out more or less a squeak.

"Night Surgeon. Do you know where you are?" The man's voice was familiar, but like everything else, he couldn't place it. _Night Surgeon?_ He thought.

_ Yes_.

That was his name. Or...well. It was _what_ he was. Suddenly he could remember cold steel in his hands, the feel of warm flesh cleanly slicing open. The warmth and feel and smell of spilled blood...

Night Surgeon _Yessss._ As good a name as any.

"Where the fuck am I?" he growled into the light.

* * *

Time passed.

It was hard to tell how much in the darkness. Long enough for him to fall asleep, leaning back against the wall holding Shilo in his arms. He'd tried to find a way out of the cavern, to see where the path led. It forked off in at least two different spots and he was soon scared of not being able to find his way back to her without any light.

When he got back he could still hear the GenCops in the crypt thumping around. Sounded like they were breaking things apart. He was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to get the door open. Even if they did he had no where to run to. So he sat down where the steps ended and the ground leveled off and pulled the sleeping girl into his arms. She was shaking, it was so cold in there. He lay his jacket around them both as best he could, using it as a blanket, but mostly hoping their combined body heat would keep them warm enough.

Soon he was asleep.

He was dreaming a familiar dream of being a little boy and of the cold graveyard where he had first learned to rob the dead. The cemetery was one of many surrounding the outskirts of the city. It was old and outside, filled with ancient moss covered oaks and sad statues of angels weeping.

He remembered this night well. It was December, sometime just before Christmas, and he was freezing. Donovan was instructing him on how to dig up a grave, back when people were actually buried one by one in pine boxes six feet under. He was deep in the hole he had dug, something he was deathly afraid, of but continued to dig anyway. At least the work was keeping him warm. He'd stopped when the shovel had hit something hard, looking up at the figure waiting there. "Peoples'er buried wit' all kindsa treasures, kid," the old black man was saying. He was sitting atop the box-like tombstone smoking the ever present cigar. The moon was huge and full behind him, casting his body into shadows so all the boy could see of him was the shine of his eyes and the glow of the cigar.

"But I don't _want_ to steal from bodies..." His young self said, shuttering at the thought. Donovan just laughed. "You gonna stick wit' me, kid, you gonna do what I do." He jumped into the grave and took the shovel from him. "Here, you get on back up der an keep an eye open fer da cops." The older man hefted the young boy back up to ground level. "But'cha watch me, too, boy. You gonna be doin' da next one." The older man put the edge of the shovel to the coffin and pried up the lid.

This was where the dream always differed from the real experience.

When the lid to the coffin snapped back it wasn't an ancient pile of bones wearing a yellowed and browned wedding dress with the veil hiding the gape toothed skull. Instead, it was his mother. Newly dead. Looking cold and asleep.

Suddenly he was down in the grave again, no longer a young boy.

Donovan was gone.

A Zydrate gun was in his hand.

"But what is it?" he was asking someone in the dark. His face was awash with the brilliant blue-green of the drug. "Why does it glow so?" He was in awe of it, holding the vile before his eyes.

"Why do you need it?" It was his mother's voice that answered him. "Why me? Can't I rest in peace?" He looked down and her eyes were open, carbon copies of his own, staring at him pleadingly.

He jumped back as she began to rise. "My precious little boy, why would you do this to me?" Her face was no longer young and still. The flesh was peeling off, hanging open at her jaw line where he could see her teeth just beneath. Pus was seeping from her eyes which were becoming sunken and cold. He reached a boney hand toward him. He turned his back to the thing that had once been his mother, tried to reach up to pull himself from the grave, but the ledge was impossibly high.

She was moaning.

Shilo was moaning.

That's what woke him up.

He frowned when his eyes fluttered open and it was just as dark as when they had been closed. His mother's rotting face was still etched in his mind. It took him a moment before his thoughts cleared enough to remember where he was. His feet, legs, and even his ass were all asleep from being in one spot so long.

Shilo still lay in his lap, her cheek laying on his shoulder. She was making soft mewing noises, tightly griping a handful of his shirt.

She was crying.

"Kid?" he whispered, not knowing if she was awake of not. Her crying came louder, harder, her whole body shaking. "H-h-hurts. So bad." He didn't know if she meant the pains of withdraw or of losing her family.

"Oh, kid." He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him. "It'll be okay. I promise, we'll get you through this."

"I'm cold." She hiccuped. Her arms slid around his neck slowly, squeezing him. "It's so dark."

He chuckled, his own arms tightened around her, squeezing her gently. "Shilo? We're in your mother's crypt. Behind it, I guess. It's dark because we're stuck here. It's fucking cold because we're stuck here. I don't know where the path leads. How do we get out of here without going back outside?"

"The left," her voice was getting softer, sleepy. "Always stay to the left. Please...please don't leave me here. Don't...just don't leave." Her head lulled to the side, dropping back as she passed out, again.

"I won't." His voice was soft. Suddenly he knew this was true. When had he decided this? A predatory feeling came over him and he knew, he'd known when Amber had first approached him, that he wouldn't turn her in. He'd look after her. He knew what it was like to lose what little family he had, knew what it was like to find his world having fallen to pieces around him. He couldn't let what happened to him happen to her. She was stronger than that.

He stood, slowly, trying not to fall over, using the wall at his back to help him get to his feet without setting her down. His feet were still asleep; enough pain shot up his legs to make his knees buckle a little. After a moment he was able to move.

The cavern twisted several times. The floor was rough, trash and debris tripping up his feet. A few times he felt he was going up an incline, sometimes it felt he was going in circles. But he kept his left shoulder against the wall and continued picking his way slowly through the mess until he could see a dim light in the distance.

There were pipes running the length of the ceiling, disappearing into the wall. A bare bulb hung from a chain before a door looking exactly like the one in Marni's crypt. Graverobber adjusted the young girl in his arms so he could push the door open one handed. The door slid open effortlessly revealing a drawing room set with antique furniture. Directly beside the door a set of stairs wound their way up to the second floor with an old high-backed arm chair sitting just under the banister.

Sitting in the chair Amber Sweet stared back at him with a maniacal grin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Short chapter, I'm sorry. I was going to cut this out completely, but my bata told me if I did she'd hurt me. ::cowers in the corner:: I think I did pretty well with Luigi. He's kinda fun. I may add him a little more... And to those who asked about zombies, I'm sorry if I gave that impression, but that's not entirely what's going on...**

Chapter Five

A Repoman Reborn

* * *

Sometimes one needed to know when to take a stand and when to let someone else have the spotlight. Of course, using said person as a puppet wasn't too bad of an idea either. Best of both worlds, really.

Luigi had the most brains of the three Largo children. While Pavi wasn't as stupid as he sometimes acted, Amber's head was too full of dreams of stardom, not to mention that she'd fried most of her brain cells by the overuse of her favorite drug.

Sure, she was trying to take this "new face of GeneCo" thing seriously and some of the plans she'd already implemented were something their father would have approved of. But Luigi knew it wouldn't last long.

Eventually she'd lapse back into her old ways, so strung out on street Zydrate she wouldn't know up from down. If she had a real brain in that pretty head of hers, she would know that GeneCo's Zydrate, while still addictive and numbing, wasn't nearly as debilitating as that street shit.

He would be there, though, when she finally fell. Oh, he'd still use her. Prop her up and use her as the face. Good and bad, _she_ would take the heat while _he_ ran the show.

Best of both fucking worlds.

After all, _he_ was the oldest. _He_ was the one who really should be running GeneCo. But, until Amber really did screw things up, he would be behind her. Always there to let her knew he was with her. Let her take the fall if things went wrong.

This new thing, however, with Pop's will. He didn't know how to handle that. Amber was dealing with this thing with surprising ease. Hiring her own drug dealer, the most wanted man in the city, to find this little bitch of a kid was a stroke of brilliance that he was surprised he hadn't thought of himself.

He flexed his hands in and out of fists. So long as they followed the tracking device Amber slipped into the fucking grave-robber's shirt pocket, they would find him and the girl. No one could be blamed, then, for her death if she was caught in the cross fire between the GeneCops and Graverobber. Even the lawyers Pop had employed to keep an eye on the three of them after his death wouldn't be able to blame that on _them_.

It would be _her_ fault for hanging out with the known criminal.

Luigi smiled. Yes. It was a good plan. Had he known about the fucking papers before Amber had, there was no doubt that he would have thought up something very similar. Of course, Amber did have a way of fucking things up sometimes. Like her face the night of the opera, sometimes things around her just fell apart. And he had a plan to keep that from happening.

He was walking down a long white hallway in the sub-basement of GeneCo Labs. His boots echoed on the marble floor. Windows lined each side of the hall. Some had lights on, showing stark white rooms with a single bare mattress bed, a sink, and a toilet. Most of them had occupants. Former GeneCo employees, the homeless, and big fucking assholes who had been delinquent on their payments and had struck a deal with GeneCo to keep from being Repoed.

The dark rooms were the ones that mattered the most, though. The occupants there were the best GeneCo's surGens and scientists had to offer. It was at one of these rooms that he stopped. Already there were two white coat ass wipes with clipboards standing by the door labeled _Subject 19-E._

Since his father started this project ten years ago there had been many test subjects. This room was the nineteenth in the E series. So far, the E series was the only one that worked.

"He is awake, Mr. Largo." One of the lab-coats said turning to look up at him.

Luigi gave him a brisk nod. The man hit a switch by the door next to the window. A light turned on, blinding the nude man within the room. One of the most feared of the Repomen stood by a steel table, his arm up over his eyes. There was a long scar running down his chest and stomach. It was healing nicely though it still looked red and slightly puffy.

"What does he remember?" Luigi asked.

"We believe not much, sir. The brain surgery was a success. We took out the part of the hippoca-"

Luigi shot him a look. "Do I look like I _care_ what you did to him?"

"Um, no sir. Sorry sir. We do not know the extent of his memory just yet, but he does not seem to know the name 'Nathan Wallace.' He has responded well to 'Night Surgeon.'" The man pressed a button next to the window. "Night Surgeon? Do you know where you are?"

"No," he snarled into the light. "Why don't you come in here and tell me instead of constantly asking me the same fucking questions? I've got your answers right here. And where the fuck are my clothes?"

There was a squawk from Luigi's arm band. He held it up. "Sir, we have a hit on the whereabouts of the fugitives. We are sending men in right now."

"Good." Luigi smiled. He hit another button by the door and the whole room flooded with light. The door slid open and he stepped inside. "You know who I am?" He asked. Night Surgeon's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.

"You're the one keeping me here?" he growled low in his throat. All the years Luigi had known this man, he's known there to be two sides of him. The quiet, almost meek doctor and then this man. No. There was no doubt that _this_ was the Repoman so feared and dreaded. "You were hurt. They fixed you." Luigi poked him over the scar. "You owe me your life. I _thought_ about just letting you bleed to death. But I need you. I have a new assignment for you. One I think you will enjoy." He snapped his fingers and one of the lab-coats hit a button and a hologram of Shilo Wallace hovered before the Repoman's face.

There was no recognition.

Luigi Largo smiled largely. This was going to be fun.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

A Little Shot of the Glow

* * *

Shilo awoke to the feel of something hard, cold, and wet beating her face.

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped. Then water filled her mouth and she choked.

"Wha-what?" she coughed. Her knees were buckling under her, she felt she was going to fall. Thrashing her arms out one hand found the soap dish attached to the wall and gripped it, the other smacked into something hard, yet soft at the same time.

"Whoa, watchit, kid!" Two hands griped her waist, steadying her on her feet. There was a soft chuckle. "Welcome back to the world of the living." The familiar voice was whispering in her ear.

Shilo blinked a few times and realized she was in the shower. _Her_ shower. _Her_ bathroom across from _her_ room. Suddenly several things were _very_ apparent. One, she was still wearing her mother's dress and it was soaked; her wig was also soaked and hanging heavily in her face. Two, the crazy drug-dealer was holding her, also fully clothed and soaked. And finally, three, he was pressed against her back. The warmth and feel of his body against hers, though strange, was not altogether unpleasant.

She was shivering, cold water was beating down on her head, so she leaned back against him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. She blinked up at him. "I'm wearing my clothes," she said simply. "So are you. We are _all_ wet." Her head was swimming. That sounded _sooo_ bad to say.

She started giggling.

His face lit up with a lewd grin and he laughed loudly. "Well, kid, _I _wanted to remedy that, trust me I did." His hands splayed across her hips and he pulled her back against him a little more. "But _he_ wouldn't let me." He tipped his head to the side. "Thinks I would have molested you, or something."

It was then that she noticed the shower curtain was not closed and someone was standing in the doorway. Pavi Largo leaned against the door jam, arms crossed over a baby blue linen shirt, a feminine mask attached to his face. She grinned at him then started laughing, suddenly finding the whole situation completely funny.

"What did you give her?" Pavi was asking, his high pitched voice and accent comical. Shilo's whole body was shaking and she doubled over with laughter. Suddenly it was very hard to stand.

The Graverobber slid an arm around her waist to help hold her while he adjusted the water heat with his free hand. "What do you think?" the tramp chuckled softly. "Head feel funny, kid?" He pulled her back upright.

She nodded, "Uh-huh."

"That's the glow warmin' up your blood. It'll fade in a few minutes."

She stiffened, the laughter dieing. "You...you drugged me?" She pushed her hair from her face. The eyes that looked back at him were suddenly very cold and sad.

"Not much, not even half a dose. You were coming down, kid. _Hard_. Whatever your da...whatever you were on before was pushing your system to the limit. I couldn't wake you and you were puking up blood." He shrugged "Just a little shot of Z and _now_ look at you. We're standing here have an intelligent conversation."

"I don't know how intelligent this is." Pavi muttered to himself.

Graverobber shot him a look. "You're welcome to _leave_ any second now."

While he was distracted, Shilo managed to push away from him; but without his support she fell to her hands and knees. The tub wasn't a very big one and she ended up knocking his feet out from under him. "Shit!" he yelped falling feet over ass, his body laying on the bathroom floor, legs and feet straight up in the air over the edge of the tub. Shilo almost laughed but her stomach heaved and she started retching instead.

"Bella, are you okay?" Suddenly Pavi was there, stepping over the moaning drug peddler to offer her a helping hand. Shilo looked up at him, at the face that wasn't his stretched over the scars of one too many face lifts, and shrank back. She was trying to make herself as small as possible in the corner of the tub.

Graverobber grabbed hold of Pavi's leg and used it to pull himself into a position where he could sit up. Pavi tried shaking him off, all the while trying to hold his hand out to Shilo. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't take it. Everyone loved Pavi. "Bella, please! I'm here to _help_."

She looked up at him through her hair and shuttered.

Graverobber leaned his chin on the side of the tub. "Kid?" Her eyes flicked to him. "I'm sorry I did that to you. I didn't know what else to do. You weren't waking up...I think you've been out for _days_. Taking you to a doctor...not such a great idea right now. Actually, being _here_ is not such a great idea right now. Amber Sweet has half the city looking for your pretty face, and it's not to welcome you as her new sister."

She looked back up at the youngest Largo son and he nodded. "Amber wants you dead, bella Shilo. She has been looking for you for days since the opera. We've got find you a place to hide."

Shilo put her hand in the air, shaking her head. "I don't...I don't understand," she bit out, her head throbbing. The water still pelting down on her was only lukewarm now and she was shivering. Graverobber leaned over and turned the water off before he stood. He offered her his hand. Shilo stared at it for a moment, thinking over the events that led to her meeting up with him not once but on three different occasions on the night of the opera. She thought of the room he led her to where she confronted her mother's corpse...

_Days ago? _she thought. _How could that have been _days_ ago?_

She flicked her eyes to his face. The grease paint he used as makeup was half washed off and his hair stuck to him in funny places. He was dripping wet from being in the shower with her. The first time she'd seen him in the graveyard she'd been afraid of him. He was so much taller than her, imposing. She'd always thought of Graverobbers on TV the same way she would have the boogeyman or the monster under her bed. Of course, GeneCops scared her more, which is why she had first followed him.

And then, he helped her get home when she hadn't known how to do it herself. Of course, he'd stopped on the way to peddle his drug, which was her first non-TV exposure to Zydrate. Her dad had always controlled what she watched on TV, what she read in books and what magazines she was allowed to see. She'd had no idea that there really _were_ Zydrate addicts and people who robbed graves to get it.

And at the opera, before she'd found out Dad was...when he brought her to the room with Marni's... She shook her head. She didn't want to think about _that _right now.

Looking up at the still dripping older man with his hand offered out for her to take, Shilo felt any fear she may have had of him fading away. He wasn't a good man, that much was for sure, but he was no boogeyman either. Without his makeup he seemed much younger, softer, and not nearly as frightening as Pavi with his removable face.

She took his hand and let him help her stand. "I...still feel funny," she said, softly.

He smiled at her, his whole face lighting with it. "I'm sure you do. Can you stand by yourself?" She let go of his hand and nodded, leaning back against the shower wall. "Good. You still have..." he trailed off and waved to her right arm. She looked at her shoulder. Her skin was caked in red.

Blood. _Dad._

She shuddered.

The Graverobber grabbed hold of the back of Pavi Largo's shirt and pulled him backwards, out of the bathroom. "Take a shower, kid. Get cleaned up. Just don't take too long. Amber's spies have been here and we need to scat before they come back. We'll be right outside, so just yell if you need us." He shut the door behind him.

* * *

Shilo striped from her mother's old dress, letting it fall; a puddle of black at her feet. Her panties were next and her gloves, then her wig, which made a wet sound as it hit the floor. She ran water for the shower and scrubbed off all the blood, trying her hardest not to think about it or look at the red as it spiraled down the drain.

Once she was clean, she stopped up the tub and ran a bath. She was still a little unsteady on her feet. With a sigh she slowly sank into the water. She flexed her fingers, they were stiff almost to the point of being painful from lack of use. Her chest, stomach, and throat hurt. There was a foul taste in her mouth.

She'd never been in a fight, though her father had slapped her once. She imagined the pain and wiriness of her body would feel much the same if she had been. The warm water was slowly helping her relax and drawing the hurt from her. Her head was clearing up but she still didn't understand what was going on.

Somehow she wasn't surprised by the graverobber's appearance. In the back of her mind she could almost picture him as always being there. It was amazing how one night of tragedy could make her think of someone she had just met as someone she...make her feel...well, she wasn't sure what.

But Parvi Largo? She shuttered.

For most of her life she had seen the "royal" GeneCo family in magazines and on TV. The huge floating billboard passed by her house once a week at least, and they were always on that thing. She, like most of the people on Sanitarium Island she was sure, had watched Pavi's transformation from a man with a handsome face to one with one too many face-lifts then to one with someone else's face plastered over the old one.

It was because of _his_ father that all of this happened. In a way, she felt she almost owed him a debt. In another, she hoped Largo Towers exploded with all of them in it.

With a soft sigh she dropped down and slipped her head under the water.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Just in Time

* * *

"You said we would stay right here and wait to make sure she would be okay."

Never one of his favorite people to begin with, Pavi Largo was beginning to get on Graverobber's nerves. "And you're standing there. It doesn't take two to listen for one little girl to fall in the tub." He was looting around in Nathan Wallace's bedroom, looking through his closet for something dry to wear. The kid's old man and he were about the same size, one a little taller, the other a little paunchier, but all in all... He pulled a plain white shirt from the closet and tossed it on the bed along with the pair of little worn jeans he'd already found. He started looking for some boots of some sort. After all, Nathan Wallace wouldn't be needing them anymore. Waste not, want not and all.

Pavi was still in the hallway, keeping an eye on the bathroom door and on Graverobber at the same time. He brought out a little bottle of breath spray and gave himself a squirt in the mouth. "Should you be doing that?"

Graverobber raised an eyebrow at the younger man and spun his finger in a circle to demonstrate him turning around. "A little privacy, please?"

Pavi sneered at him. "You have nothing I have not seen before." He looked him up at down, then wrinkled his nose. "You hold little interest for me." He turned. "You smell. I do not see what my sister sees in you." He gave himself another squirt.

"Let me tell you a little something about your sister," he said with a soft chuckle. He was unbuttoning his wet shirt. "Amber Sweet will fuck anything that moves so long as it has something she wants. Zydrate just happens to be that something, most of the time, and I'm the best person around to get it for her." The shirt was silk and it was soft and smooth and clean against his skin. He thought about stealing a pair of underwear as well, but decided against it. He'd rather just not wear any.

"My Z," he went on, "is the most clear. It's more _pure_." There was a pair of gold cuff links in a little dish on the dresser beside a picture of a very young Shilo. Graverobber pocketed them after putting on the jeans. There was also a tie pin in the dish, but it was so ugly, even _he_ would be embarrassed trying to pawn it. "I don't cut it with anything and I only get it from the freshest of decomposing bodies." Pavi shuttered slightly.

Graverobber grinned "Just think," he said coming up behind the young man while pulling on his coat. "You wear the face of the dead and she lets me shoot her up with enzymes extracted from the dead. Don't be so high and mighty. You're both the same, in your own way. And how good're you gonna smell when that thing," he pointed to the mask, "starts decomposing?"

Pavi sneered. It was amazing, if a little macabre, that the skin-mask was fit so tightly against his real skin that it actually moved with his facial expressions. Too bad it looked like a smile was permanently afixed to his face, even as he frowned, and you could still see the scarring on the sides and through the eye holes. "Don't like that thought, huh? Here's another for you. You're just like Luigi too. Want to know why?"

Pavi glared at him. "No," he snarled balling his hands into fists at his sides.

"Ah, ah, ah." Graverobber shook a finger at him. "None of that famous Largo temper, now."

Pavi grabbed him by the neck and shoved him back against the wall. Graverobber just chuckled best he could while being choked. "Truth's hard, ain't it?" He coughed out.

Shilo picked that moment to open the bathroom door. She was wearing only a towel and her wig was gone. She looked at them, frowned, then walked past them and into her room. The light turned on and she stood in the doorway, looking over the mess.

Pavi let him go and followed her with his eyes. If the hairlessness bothered him at all he didn't let on. Of course, Graverobber's eyes were following her as well. Her legs were very shapely beneath the towel. Her skin looked creamy and smooth.

Pavi started to follow her. "Bella, you can't stay here. We need to get you out of here, soon. If anyone sees these lights on..." She flipped the light back out and disappeared into her room. Graverobber put the back of his hand against Pavi's chest, stopping him. "Leave her alone."

His voice was soft.

* * *

Dirty sunlight filtered in through the sheer drapes. Just enough light to see by. Shilo looked around sadly; her room had been torn apart. The hologram of her mother that sat on the wall facing her bed was on the floor. It's glow had always been soft and gentle, her nightlight for as long as she could remember. The image of Marni was gone and the light inside flickered as though uncertain it should really come on. The plastic sheeting around her bed was torn and tossed to the floor; her feather pillows ripped and the insides scattered all around the room. As was her vast bug collection.

From where she stood in the doorway, she could see her collection of tiny to large shadow boxes broken; the many bugs and butterflies she had collected were torn and squished and broken. Wings and legs and carapaces everywhere.

She bent down and picked up a small blue wing, still perfect, though missing the rest of it's body. Her eyes began to sting. She bit the tears back. She wouldn't cry, she just wouldn't.

Dropping the wing, she moved into the room, half shutting the door behind her. Her clothes were also thrown across the room, but seemed to be in good condition for the most part. Pulling on a white t-shirt and then a black lacy one on top and a pair of skin tight jeans she smiled softly to herself. Her dad hated it when these jeans had shown up with other clothes she had ordered for her birthday. They were low cut and too tight, he'd said. She'd countered with the fact that no one but he would ever see her in them, so what did it matter? Now she wore them with the realization that she was about to leave the house in them. Maybe leave the house forever.

It was funny. She'd spent most of her life, all of her teenaged years at least, longing to escape this place. Now part of her didn't want to leave.

Graverobber's voice came in through the door. "Kid? We gotta get you outta here, so pack some stuff. Whatever you need to take with you for a while."

"I will be most happy to help you pick out your clothes, if you like." Pavi's voice wafted through as well.

"She doesn't need help picking out clothes." Graverobber replied to him.

"Maybe she does. All beautiful girls need a little help from the handsome men every once and a while. To make sure they're wearing the best of things."

"You mean things that show off a lot of skin."

"Your point is?"

Shilo rolled her eyes and slammed the door closed, shutting out their voices.

She looked around at all her things. Toys, clothes, a few books. This was what her life came down to.

She ran her fingers down the keys of her piano. Her whole life she'd been hiding in Nathan's shadow, letting him rule her life, her world. She'd tried desperately to be like the mother she had never known. The last few months nothing she did seemed to be enough. Her father had always pulled away from her.

Of course, now she knew why.

She sighed softly and touched her necklace, a nervous habit. Her bag was on top of everything on her bed. Graverobber must have put it there after bringing her home. She picked it up and looked around. What was she supposed to take?

The framed photo of her mother and father on their wedding day that had sat next to her bed was broken. She shook the glass from the picture and put it into the bag. She was currently in the middle of re-reading _Alice in Wonderland_; after shifting through the mess next to her bed she found it under a shredded pillow and added it on top of her well used insect dictionary. Her favorite teddy went in after that. It was missing an eye and an arm; the arm had been missing for a few years, the eye was new.

She supposed she should pack some clothes, but they wouldn't all fit in her bag. She slid it over her head and shoulder, setting it familiarly against her hip.

She left her room, ignoring the men who looked at her expectantly, and walked into her father's. It hadn't been trashed as her's had. There was a black duffel bag in the bottom of his closet. When she picked it up it knocked the lid off a shoe box it had been hiding. A large pile of small plastic credits and a small stack of paper money hid inside. Her mother's wedding rings, some round golden disks, and some jewelry were also in the box. She'd never needed real money before, anything she'd ever wanted Dad had gotten it for her, or given her his credit number so she could order it herself.

She tossed the contents into the bag. She would be needing the money now.

As she turned from the closet she noticed Graverobber's wet clothes in a pile next to the bed. Looking at him from the corner of her eye she realized he was wearing some of her father's things. She sighed softly and and thought about about packing them too. After a moment she stripped a pillow of its case and tossed the wet clothes into it, then put the case into the bag on top of the money. There was nothing else in this room she wanted. The fewer things she had as a reminder of her father, the better.

Back in her room she packed a few sets of clothes and an extra pair of boots. Looking around the room she realized there was nothing else here she wanted either. There was nothing else in the _house_ that she wanted.

What _was_ she supposed to do now?

Shilo poked her head out the door. "Graverobber?" It was kinda weird calling him that, but it was the only thing she'd ever heard him called...

Both men looked at her. She was trying her best not to look at Pavi, she really didn't understand why he was here. But she could feel his eyes on her and suddenly wished she'd put on something else.

She pushed the door all the way open and leaned against the frame, arms down in front of her holding the duffel. "I think I have everything I need," she said softly, shoulders slumping slightly. "I guess I'm free to go where I want...but...now what?"

Graverobber offered his hand to her. "Now? Now we get the hell outta here."

Pavi pushed past him and came forward. He took her bag from her, then looped his arm through hers. "Come now, Bella, let's get you out of here and somewhere much more pleasant. I have just the place."

"I'm sure you do," Graverobber muttered under his breath. Pavi thrust her bag against his chest, shutting him up. Shilo looked from Pavi to Graverobber but Pavi was pulling her down the hall towards the stairs.

"The tunnel you came in from, where does it lead?" he asked, squeezing her arm. "I think it a bad idea to leave by the front door. Returning to your mother's grave site may not be the best thing for us, either. They almost caught the two of you there."

"They?" They stepped carefully down the stairs, Pavi was so close to her she had to hold on to him so she wouldn't trip over his feet or her own.

"They, them," he waved his hand as if to ward "them" off.

"GeneCops." Graverobber said behind them. "The Largo's sent them after you. They want to kill you."

Shilo looked back at him, then back to Pavi, wide eyed. Pavi patted her arm reassuringly, then cast a dirty look back to Graverobber. "Not _all_ of us, bella. Just Amber. And Luigi, I'm sure. _I_ wish you no ill-will and want to help you. It is what my dear Papa would have wanted. After all," he leaned close to her, his lips brushing against her ear, "he gave you _sooo_ much."

"Yeah?" Graverobber snorted. "Don't listen to this pretend Casanova, kid. All Pavi Largo wants and has ever wanted, is to get into a pretty girl's skirt and to make sure _he's_ prettier then her."

Shilo pulled back from Pavi, wrenching her arm free of his. They were at the bottom of the staircase. "I don't think I need _your_ help," she said.

Graverobber stepped down behind her, smirking. "I gotcha, kid. I can keep you on the down-low for a few weeks 'til we get you out of Sanitarium."

Pavi crossed his arms over his chest. "Any who do you think hired our grave-robbing friend here? Hmm?" He waved a hand and gave Graverobber a slight tip of an invisible hat.

Shilo stepped away from both of them, turning to face them both. "I don't need help. From either of you." She lifted her chin. "I'm free. I can go where I want. Take care of myself, now. I ca-"

There was a bang at the front door. Shilo jumped with a little yelp at the sound that reverberated through the house. GenCops. They could see their forms through the glass doors; they were trying to beat in the glass but the heavy iron bars were in their way. "Shilo Wallace. We know you are in there. Vacate immediately."

Graverobber grabbed her hand and yanked her hard towards the hidden doorway. "You were saying, Kid?" He slung her bag over his shoulder and pulled her into the tunnel.


	8. Chapter 8

**I am soooo sorry this took so long to get out. I've got a lot going on at work, my bata reader won't answer my e-mails, and my 7 month old has just started to crawl so I've been chasing after him instead of writing most of the time :) Next chapter won't take so long.**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Dark Places

* * *

Somehow, before closing the door, Graverobber convinced Pavi to stay behind. Distract the GENcops before they could find the hidden entrance to Marni's tomb. Give them a chance to escape. Pavi protested at first, but finally relented when he noticed the heavy amount of dirt on the tunnel floor and the cobwebs hanging form the ceiling.

He was wearing _very_ expensive clothes after all.

"You may contact me here." He passed a card to Graverobber with his number on it. "I can get her out of the city."

After making sure the passage was shut, he slid a table holding an empty birdcage in front of it. Then he leaned against the banister of the staircase, one arm tossed carelessly over it. He looked on at the progress at the door with a look of annoyance and boredom. Or, well, that was what he was going for, at least.

When he raised his eyebrows he could feel a strange tug at the corner of his mask. Pulling a small compact mirror from his pocket proved that one of the silver snaps holding his face in place had popped open, the left side of Amber's old face was hanging over slightly. The mouth was pulled into a half smile that was fairly gruesome to look at.

No wonder the little chit had been so cold to him. How he must have looked to her. No wonder she hadn't fallen over herself for him. With a heavy sigh he put the compact back into his pocket. Well, there was nothing he could do about it until he visited his three favorite GENterns and had them fix it.

He opened his mouth and gave himself a shot of breath spray.

He remember the first time he'd known that his looks meant more than anything else. He had been six years old. He and his mother had come from Venice to meet his father. Mamma had been a handsome woman, large and strong. Handsome, but not really beautiful. She had a strong laugh and was quick to smile at him. Quick to play a game with or tickle him.

His young self had loved Momma more than anything else in the world.

She'd held onto his hand tightly that first time he'd ridden the elevators in Largo Tower. It had been his first visit to America and he had found California strange and scary At the time, Italy still had fields and forests; Venice had parks and few trees planted here and there. Sanitarium Island was a cold place filled with towering buildings and blacktop as far as the eye could see. There was not green, no vibrant flowers. Nothing grew here. And the smell was something he would never forget, though he'd lived most of his thirty-three years here now.

Little Paviche Largo had only met his father a half dozen times before this night. He was a large, imposing man, who seemed to love his mother, not for herself, but for what she could do for him. Momma was from a very wealthy family.

When the elevator doors opened it was to find Papa in his office with a woman more beautiful than any he had ever seen before sitting on his desk. She was laughing at him, her head thrown back just so, golden hair flowing down her back. His mother had black hair that she kept in a tight bun at the back of her head. The woman was slender with long legs that ended in very high heels. She was laughing at Papa as Papa threw a giggling baby up in the air and caught her again. The baby's hair was the same color as the lady's and she was giggling "Dada" as he tossed her higher.

Momma stepped from the elevator, her mouth drawn into a tight line. "Rotti. You _knew_ we were coming." Mamma's English was heavily accented and strained. Papa looked at her over the child's head and smiled, unashamed of being caught with his mistress and his new child. This was the first time Pavi had even been aware of his new little sister, Carmela.

The laughing woman hopped off the desk and took the baby from Rotti. She smiled unapologetically at them and leaned over to give Rotti a deep, penetrating kiss full of tongue. He gave her ass a hard smack and she laughed again as she skipped to the elevator. She stopped as she passed them, her blue eyes dancing, and gave Pavi a little pat on the head. Mamma cussed at her in a steady stream of Italian, but the woman just shrugged it off and left through the elevator.

Later, as Pavi sat in his father's lap behind his expansive wooden desk, Momma having gone somewhere to clean herself up, his father had explained things to him in very simple terms. "Women like your mother, they are for marrying. But people like Amber, now son, people like Amber are for fun. Beauty is what matters the most in this world when it comes to love. Women with beauty like Amber's, well, they get everything. Pretty clothes, pretty jewelry, money. Between Amber and your mother, who would you rather wake up to in the morning?" Pavi had been too young to understand what he meant at the time. But he had seen the pretty little baby, had seen how his father laughed with her, looked at her, held her. He, who looked very much like his Mamma and little like his Papa, had known then that in order to be loved he had to be more pretty.

And Pavi hated that baby. Hated his sister with everything he had in his being. If keeping Shilo safe and alive would hurt her, well that was worth it to him, even if he did lose part of his inheritance because of it.

He had had his first surgery a year after his Mamma died when he had first come back to Sanitarium to live in Largo Towers. He was eight. And yet, nothing he ever did was enough. Papa loved Amber, who was once Carmela, more. He showered her with gifts. He made himself as beautiful as he possibly could and yet it was never enough. Even to his death, Papa hated him.

Well, he would show them all now, wouldn't he?

The GENcops almost had the door open now. He started towards it, planing to open it and yell at them for interrupting his own search for Shilo Wallace. He only took a few steps, however, when he heard the crackle of Luigi's voice coming across a radio. "Stand down," it said. "Let her go. _I'll_ deal with it."

Pavi stepped back into the shadows by the stairs and the wall. _Luigi will handle this, hmmm? Interesting. _

_

* * *

_

Luigi clicked his phone closed and put it back into his pocket. He'd always thought the wrist cuffs looked gay and refused to use them. Besides, it was becoming retro to use old cell phones. Though not the trendsetter his brother and sister were, it always amused him when people started following his example in things like this.

He always knew he was the best of the three Largo children. Pop definitely loved him more, taking him onto more trips down the bowels of their company, teaching him the ins and outs of the business. What the other two idiots didn't know was that GeneCo wasn't _just_ about organ transplants. They had contracts all over the world for all kinds of things. Somewhere in what was left of China was a little sweat shop filled with children making surgical tools that were so tiny only their little hands could fit the pieces together. In some African village GeneCo had built a factory and hired the locals to build guns. GeneCo's hands were in so many different pots, it was often hard to keep them all straight

The Resurrection Program was designed for the American government. If another war were to break out like forty years ago, GeneCo's Resurrected Solders would be the wave of the future. For a price, of course. Standing in the lab now, watching the resurrected form of Nathan Wallace being dressed in his old repo-man uniform, he was pretty damned happy.

He left instructions for Night Surgeon to follow the tracking device after dark. "Have fun with it," he called back to the Repoman over his shoulder. "Play with it a little. Just make sure she, and anyone with her, is dead." The Repoman looked at him through his mask, what could be seen of his face was lit by a Zydrate-like light. Luigi shivered despite himself. There was nothing left in those dead eyes.

He walked briskly down the hall, heading toward the elevators and then up to his rooms. Each of the Largos had their own floor in Largo Towers. Amber had taken over their father's rooms as well as her own. Probably wanting to turn her old ones into closets or something. Luigi should have taken them over, _he_ should have the penthouse with all the best views. Instead he was stuck on the fifteenth floor. At least he was a floor above Pavi.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped into his living room. Posters of Sinatra covered every spare splace. Leather couches sat before a wall of glass overlooking the city. There were display cases on every wall filled with swords, guns, armor, brass knuckles, switch blades, grenades and pretty much anything else you could use to deal damage to someone. Most of them were just for looks. They were old and in rough shape.

One case sitting in the middle of the room, a light surrounding the contents in its pale yellow glow, was always open. He walked toward it, running his fingers lovingly over a leather cat-of-nine tails resting on a velvet pillow. Brass knuckles, deadly sharp knives, leather paddles, most of them still had dried flecks of blood on them. These were his favorite toys.

From here he could see into his bedroom on the right. The little bitch he'd suckered into his limo last night at a nightclub was still tied to his bed. Her face was a mass of bruises, one eye swollen shut. She'd had a beautiful smile, which is what had drawn him to her. Before he's left her this morning he's taken his knife and extended her smile, cutting both cheeks from mouth to ear. She had a fine body, which is why he'd kept her this long, really. She was tied spread-eagle, her nude body still covered in lines of her blood and his semen. Her one good eye widened as she saw him and she began whimpering. He figured she'd be dead by now. Good. He'd fuck her again later tonight before strangling her while deep in her. He loved the way the body tightened around his cock as they struggled to breathe.

He chuckled softly, but ignored her otherwise.

When Pop was alive he'd always felt a little shame over any of this little indiscretions. His father had had a way of making him feel three feet tall and five years old with just a look. With him gone, however, Luigi no longer felt any compulsion to even try to stay in line. Before, he would have had to call his father for a clean-up crew and then face his disappointment. Now he could call in his own crew.

Disappointed fathers be damned.

Besides, hadn't he, as a child, seen Rotti punching his own mother? Slapping her every time she talked back to him? Kicking her once he had her down on the ground? His mother had been weak. Luigi would never, ever, be considered weak.

Jumping over the back of the couch, he plopped himself down on the soft leather. There was a new addition to his room. It had been brought in first thing that morning and sat were his coffee table had been. It was a huge gilded cage. Inside it a female shape covered head to foot in black sat on a gilded chair. "Sing for me, little bird," he said, tapping the cage with his foot.

The woman lifted her head, her dark hair was a mess of tangles around her face. Her face turned to him sightlessly. Her eyelids had been sewn shut, The thick black thread used to sew them shut criss-crossed against her cheeks. The SurGens had not replaced her eyes, so now the lids were beginning to sink into the empty sockets in her skull. He rather liked the look. "I said sing," he said again, more forcefully this time. She bared white teeth at him and hissed.

He'd had her fixed before the Repoman. The holes in her body were sewn shut, all her lost blood had been replaced, as had any punctured organs. She'd been awake two days now. It was a rushed job, but he hadn't cared. She refused to talk, though she would sing if prodded enough. Something about the reanimation process, even though they were living again, didn't quite make them whole. If Luigi believed in a god or a soul he would say that that was what was missing.

But God was dead. GeneCo had killed Him. And soul or no soul, her body would still be fun to use, if he could keep her from biting him; and her voice was still as beautiful as always. His own little song bird in her gilded cage.

She was still hissing at him like an animal.

He kicked the cage again, harder this time. "I said sing, dammit!" he screamed at her. Mag shrank back into a corner of the cage and began to sing.

* * *

Amber Sweet slipped her guards easily enough, telling them she was going to go take a bubble bath and not to disturb her. She leaned back against the elevator wall and sighed softly. Sometimes she just didn't want them around. Her head hurt. Her body hurt. She needed a little something to keep her going and the Zydrate GeneCo produced didn't have nearly the same kick as what she got off the street.

She pouted prettily. Too bad she'd sent Graverobber off to find that little Wallace bitch. She didn't even know where to begin to find another dealer of her favorite drug, and she wasn't even so sure it would be a great idea to. She'd heard tales of people getting hits from other dealers who cut their glow with something else. It could drive people crazy, send them into shock, kill them.

She supposed she'd just have to find a GENtern somewhere to give her a high dose of the GeneCo stuff. She had an appointment in a few hours with a SurGen in her rooms, she would need something to cool the pain. If she didn't have to run this damned company, she would just stay in her room and stay Z'ed up all day.

The world was cold and cruel, hadn't her father taught her that? Nothing she ever did was enough for him. All she'd ever wanted to do was sing for him the way Marni and Mag had sung for him so long ago. Her whole life she'd tried to be the best singer, even when it hurt to sing. When she'd been nine and her lungs had failed her. Rotti sat by her bed for three days waiting for her to recover. When she'd had to have her voice box replaced, he'd sat by her side then too. But when she sang, he always reminded her that her voice was no real match for Mag's.

With her very first hit of Zydrate she'd known that it would not only take away the surgery pains, but take away the pains of the heart too. If she could just stay in the blue haze all the time, nothing Rotti or anyone else said to her would ever hurt her. Yet, even though she'd been in the cool embrace of her favorite lover, Z, at the time of the Opera, Rotti's parting words had pierced her like a knife.

"Why wasn't I enough for you, Daddy?" she whispered softly to herself. She wiped at her cheek, brushing away fat tears. Her father didn't love her enough, her brothers both thought she was stupid. Luigi she was sure didn't think she could handle running GeneCo herself and would come running to him sooner or later. Well, she'd show them.

She'd prove she was better than that. Defiantly better than that little brat her father thought to replace her with.

The doors to the elevators opened, revealing the long white hallways of the hospital-like side of Largo Towers. Several GENterns moved down the halls, a few turned their heads towards her. She blinked a few times, thinking things over, then hit the button to close the doors and bring her back up to her rooms.

As she passed Luigi's floor she could swear she head Blind Mag singing.

* * *

The tunnel was cold and damp and they were soon in the dark again, feeling their way with their hands on the wall. "Where do these tunnels lead, Kid? I mean, besides to your mom's grave?"

Shilo shot him a dirty look which was lost in the darkness. "I have a name, you know."

"Um, yeah, I know. _Kid_. Answer the damned question before they figure out where the fuck we are. Damn it's dark." He shifted her bag from one hand to another, then hooked the handles through his arms to carry like a backpack.

"You don't have to curse at me." Shilo grabbed the back of his coat to make him stop. "Wait, I have something." She reached into the bag at her hip, searching around for a moment until her hand hit the cool roundness of the little glass vial. It was the Zydrate she had obtained at the Opera. _It's like a nightlight,_ she thought humorlessly. Her face suddenly glowed blue, the tunnel lighting up slightly.

Graverobber grinned largely at her. "You're _beautiful_!" he laughed taking the vial from her. Shilo's breath caught in her throat and she was very thankful for the near dark as her cheeks began to warm. He took her hand in his free one and started leading her further down. "Where does this go?" he asked at a junction. He knew the right side led back to Marni's grave.

"I don't know. Dad always said it was too dangerous to go down this way. The cavern is collapsed."

"You know that for sure?"

"I don't know anything for sure anymore," her voice was soft. He squeezed her hand slightly and pulled her down the tunnel.


	9. Chapter 9

So, so, soooo sorry it's taken so long to update. The restaurant I work in just fired our old Head Chef and gave me the job. I've been consumed with paper work and trying to get out a new menu and fix the mess that the old chef left behind. Not that anyone really cares :) I hit a little wall while trying to write this. Not too happy with the ending, but at least it feels like it's starting to go where I want it to.

PS, that's to SeraphimaMarie. Though I don't know you, thanks for the review and thanks for the evil plot bunnies it released. This chapter is for you so, enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Nine

The Real World

The tunnel was longer than the other had been, but had only one turn and a steady uphill climb. It was a much easier route and better for not having to carry Shilo the whole time. The shine of the Zydrate kept them from being totally in the dark, but wasn't light enough to scare away the rats that populated the area; a few scuttled over their shoes and past them, Shilo yelping each time a furry body brushed against her leg. Graverobber chuckled at her.

At the end was a large room filled with crates and decomposing cardboard boxes. It smelled musty and unused. A set of wooden stairs led them upward. They creaked and groaned when they stepped on them; Graverobber gently put his weight on each one before letting Shilo follow, to make sure they wouldn't fall through.

A set of heavy cellar doors topped the stairs. He motioned her to stay down and quiet as he tried to push open the wooden doors. After a couple of tires, he finally put his shoulder into it and it popped open, rusty hinges giving with a loud "kareeeet." The door banged open against the street outside, flooding the cellar with light.

Shilo looked up at him, expectantly, day light shining on her dusty face. "Stay here," he said as he poked his head out to take a look around. A few bums stood around a trashcan fire a few yards away, their breath hanging in the air in front of them. Other than that, they were alone.

The sun hung swollen in the sky, its light was the red-orange of dusk, though it was midday. It was trying to poke through the smog and clouds but mostly just cast everything in a dingy light. The brick buildings around them were old, crumbling, burnt out shells. Bricks and garbage littered the ground everywhere; used condoms, hypodermic needles, and crushed glass vials scattered here and there. "Watch your step, kid," he said as he reached back in and offered Shilo his hand to help her out.

He couldn't help but smile at her when she stepped out slowly, blinking in the light, and wrinkled her nose cutely.

Graverobber was keeping half an eye on the bums while trying to figure out where the hell they were. By the smell of things they weren't too far from the water. He didn't like this part of town and didn't travel in it often enough to know where anything was. Being out of his element was something he was definitely _not_ used to.

Shilo was holding her hand over her nose. "What's that smell?" she asked, though it came out muffled and more like "Uts dat pel?"

Graverobber wrinkled his own nose. "The river. When people don't have money for burial, the homeless and the unwanted mostly, they toss the bodies into the water. Makes for an interesting sight when the boats pass through..." he trailed off, letting her imagine that one.

"C'mon," he said after a moment of looking around. "I'm pretty sure we're not far from Land's End. I can get us home from there." He looked her up and down. Her white undershirt was covered in dirt and dust, her crisp jeans as well. Her clothes were molded to her body, they were so tight, her midriff starting to show as her shirts drifted up slightly with her movement. He licked his lips, then gave himself a mental shake. "Your face has been all over the place the last few days. Not that I think anyone will be looking at your face. And that," he waved his hand toward her head. "Well, no one is going to be looking for a bald chick. Just, try to keep your head down anyway. Okay?"

Shilo narrowed her eyes slightly and put her hand to the top of her head. "It's because of the blood disease that I lost my hair."

"No, Kid, it's because of the drugs that you lost your hair. I have to wonder if there wasn't a bit of Z in that mix he made you. Too much of the glow and your hair starts falling out in clumps. Radiation, I think. That's why Amber has so many damned wigs. Anyway, just keep your head down." He took her hand again and led her through the rubble to a more used street.

They passed by the usual riffraff: a few scantily clad women with a shine in their eyes from too much Zydrate; street bums half passed out in doorways with brown bags containing their little get away from the world. Several people they past held masks firmly over their faces, scared of smog, scared of disease, just scared of life; as if the masks would really help them with any of that. Shilo was taking in everything around them with abandoned curiosity, eyes wide. "Stop looking like a tourist, Kid. You'll end up getting us in trouble," he hissed at her.

"What happened here?" she asked, ignoring him. "Why are all the buildings falling apart?" She followed his lead and stepped over the outstretched legs of a passed out man, but looked down at him with a look of fascinated disgust before looking back at the once tall buildings surrounding them.

"Eh, civilization." He shrugged as if that really explained it. She looked at him, waiting for him to go on. "We've killed the world, you know?" he said after they walked almost two blocks and they were drawing closer to a more populated area. He knew where he was going now and pulled her across the street, dodging a man on a high wheel bicycle and a lady in a dirty dress pushing a pram filled with tin cans and plastic dolls parts.

"Fifty years ago, this island used to be lush and green. Our parent's parents ruined the world we live in, and now _we_ have to put up with it. Now every little thing struggles so hard to live. Plants, animals, even people. We've killed it all." He motioned toward a building they passed as they rounded a corner. "People are lazy, Kid. They would rather abandon or build _around _the things that need to be fixed. It's easier, even cheaper, to throw things away than to fix them.

"So these building will continue to crumble as they have the past thirty years or more, until there is nothing left. And we will keep building; keep filling the air with pollution until we can't breathe; keep throwing the dead in the rivers until we can't drink the water; keep the growing of food to large companies that fill it with drugs that make us weak, make us sick. You think people fifty years ago had blue glowing stuff swimming around in their brains? It's all the chemicals in the water, food and air that make Zydrate.

"And it's the same with people. People will just keep getting tossed to the wayside, the rich and the strong throwing away the poor and the weak. People keep falling apart, GeneCo keeps giving organs to keep them going, and the Repomen keep taking their lives. Civilization." He shook his head.

Shilo blinked at him. It was more of a speech than she had really expected. "I didn't know it was this bad out here," she said softly. "I've never really...thought about it. I mean, my dad...well, he kept me pretty in the dark about things, I guess."

"Welcome to the real world, Kid. Not everyone has been kept like a bird in a cage, you know. There is a whole world out here. It's just...not always a very good one. Your dad, he tried to protect you from this. Can't see how that was all that bad an idea." He looked at her out the corner of his eye. "Though I can't really agree with what he did."

Shilo was silent for a moment, looking down at her feet. "He wasn't all bad. I mean...I guess he did a lot of bad stuff. Not just with me, I know that now." she sighed softly, her shoulders slumping. "But...He loved me, you know?" She looked up at him. "I never doubted that he loved me. Even now, after everything. But my life was totally ruled by him. He controlled everything, when I ate, when I took my pills, what books I read, what TV shows I watched, music I listened to..." She wrapped her arms around herself.

"He bought me a pay-per-view channel for my sixteenth birthday, you know," she said after a while. "So I could watch a Blind Mag concert. She was in a cathedral in Venice and they kept showing pictures from the city. I thought I _was_ seeing the world then. Up to that point, it was one of the best moments of my life."

"I saw that one. Wait, it was about a year ago wasn't it?"

She nodded slightly. "A year and...three days I guess."

"Shit kid, that was...I mean, wow." He arm slid around her waist and he gave her a light squeeze.

"Yeah, some birthday, huh?"

Graverobber had nothing to say to that, so he didn't.

* * *

Land's End was the marketplace closest to the ports. Here on California's coast there were venders from all walks of life. Japanese, Filipino, Latinos, everyone was calling out their wares in a hundred different languages. Everyone looked different, skin color, hair styles, clothing. The booths were all different too. There was everything from cloth and clothes, to masks and surgical equipment, pots and paintings and musical instruments, to fruit and vegetables and packaged food of every conceivable kind.

The smell of decay was worse here than anywhere else in the city. The fact that people would buy their food in this market so close to a sea filled with rotting bodies was a testament to the fact that most people in the city had nothing. Though the city really didn't come alive until nightfall, this market was pretty much busy twenty-four hours a day.

GENcops tended to stay away from the busier parts, it was easy to get separated from a partner, taken down. Graverobber was telling this to Shilo as he pulled her through the busiest part of the market. His hand held hers very tightly, though she tried a few times to pull away.

"Wait," she said, "I wanna see that." She pointed to a stall. "Or that," she pointed to another.

"No time, Kid. I gotta get you off the streets."

"But you said this was a good enough disguise." She touched her head.

He glanced back at her. "I also said to keep your head down. You got select hearing or something?"

She pursed her lips together and dug her heels into the street. "No!" she said forcefully, pulling her hand from his. He turned and looked at her, frowning. "I've been stuck inside for seventeen fucking years watching the world pass me by through my windows. I want to _see_ what I've been missing!"

Graverobber tried to capture her hand again, but she kept waving it around and pulling back from him. She actually stomped her foot at him. "And sightseeing sounds like a great idea," he hissed through clinched teeth, looking around. People were giving them a wide birth, staring at them as they past. He tried smiling reassuringly. He didn't think it was working. Stepping up close to her, he grabbed her arms and pined them down at her sides. "But both of us are wanted people and _you're _making a god_damned_ scene!"

She tried to struggle out of his hands but he was a hell of a lot stronger than her. She finally gave up after a moment and just glared at him. "If you want to see a scene, keep hold of me and I'll start screaming." She said between clutched teeth.

He sighed softly and shook his head. "If we look around for a _minute_ will you shut the fuck up?"

"I told you not to curse at me."

Graverobber rolled his eyes and let her go. "Yeah, yeah, Kid. The least of your worries is me fucking cur-where the fuck are you going?" As soon as his hands left her she turned on her heal and started off in the crowd. He could just burly follow her with his eyes, the market was so full of people they were quickly getting separated, and she was so damned short. "Move it!" he started yelling, pushing through people, trying to cut through the lines, but all too quickly they were separated and he had no idea where the fuck she was.

"Dammit."

* * *

Night Surgeon could hear his boots echoing down the long hall way as he walked. The sound came from far away, muffled by his helmet. But it was a strong and steady sound, a march that he could almost hear a beat to.

There was a man walking with him. He was young, too young, it seemed, to be a SurGen, with hair the color of wet coffee grinds and a face that was vaguely rat-like. The man's legs were much shorter than his own so he was practically running to keep up with the taller man's longer strides. He was talking in a hurried never-ending stream, trying to tell Night Surgeon his life's story and about how much he had admired Nathan Wallace's work before he'd become a Repo Man.

Night Surgeon had no idea who the hell he was talking about and wished the young white coated man would just shut the fuck up.

He was about to tell him so when something caught the corner of his eye. This was saying something as he had to see it from the edge of his helmet where the blue light burned brightest.

The hallway had the look of a hotel corridor, each side flanked by doors and glass windows, but had the feel and antiseptic look of a hospital corridor. Eight by eight rooms lined either side, doors leading in with number pads as the locks, floor to ceiling glass windows looking into the mostly empty rooms. They were pretty much all like the one he had awaken in: stark white with cement floors, the only adornments a single chair, a bed or gurney, and an open bathroom area with just a curtain that could be pulled around for privacy.

They'd passed by several of these rooms now, but Night Surgeon had not bothered to look in any. Now he stopped, turning to face one. The room beyond the window was dark and shapeless. For all he knew the inside of the window had been painted black, not a speck of light showed. Yet there was something…

The young SurGen had continued walked a few yards before realizing he was talking to air. When he returned, Night Surgeon was staring into the seemingly vast blackness of the room beyond the window. He cocked his head to one side, something had called his attention to this one room, but he had no idea what. "Sir?" The young man asked, stepping back up to him. "Is something wrong?"

He pulled his helmet off, getting rid of the blue haze from his vision. The darkness of the room seemed to swirl with smoke so thick it was tangible; but there was nothing he could see that made this room any different than the others he had passed. "No," he growled deeply, shaking his head.

The young man, the tag on his lab coat read Tomas, smiled at him then and peered in the window as well. "Unsettling, isn't it? The experiment in this room did not go as we wanted. We had to pipe gas into it this morning. Protocol says we leave the lights out and wait forty-eight hours before incinerating everything in there. Making sure the subject is dea-" There was a thump on the glass from the other side and the man jumped, his eyes going wide.

Night Surgeon looked at the hand that had seemingly materialized against the glass. Long fingers splayed wide, pulled away, then slammed back again. Long fingernails raked at the glass; scratching it hard enough that one nail broke off, leaving a trail of blood as the hand continued its side down the window. Tomas gave a nervous chuckle, his face turning red in embarrassment. "I thought she would be dead by now." He said, then rapped at the glass with his knuckles. The "subject," a woman of undeterminable age, threw her body at the window, her face pressing against the glass. Just enough light shifted through to light up her face; one blue-grey eye stared wildly, shifting back and forth; her mouth opened and closed like a fish. Straight dark hair hung wildly around her face.

Something clicked in Night Surgeon's mind. He placed his gloved hand against the glass over the woman's. _Marni? _A face emerged in his mind's eye. A beautiful, laughing face, with dancing blue-green eyes. A face surrounded by long black curls. His heart was pounded hard in his chest, his breath coming out laboriously. "Marni?"

"Sir?" Tomas put his hand to his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Night Surgeon made a sound deep in his throat like a growl. He shoved the young man's hand off his shoulder and slammed his hand into the keypad by the door. "No!" The SurGen tried to stop him, but Night Surgeon shoved him backwards with enough force for him to hit the far wall. The young man slid to the floor, stunned.

The door slid open with a vacuum-like hiss. Smoke rolled out the room and down the corridor. Tomas started coughing, his mind beginning to clear from the knock on the head. He blinked his eyes, holding his hand over his mouth and nose, trying to block out the poison. There was a red emergency alarm above his head. All he had to do was stand and pull it and the whole place would be in lock down.

As he tried to stand, though, he saw the subject from the quarantined room emerge. Night Surgeon caught her as she stumbled. "Marni?" He whispered again. The woman turned her face up to him. Night Surgeon's head jerked away from her, he took a step back and shoved her to the floor. The side of her face he had seen through the window had been perfect and beautiful.

The other side was rotten; her left eye was missing, her teeth and jaw could be seen peeking through thin membranes of flesh and muscle. She was making little mewing sounds in the back of her throat; her one good eye shifting wildly from side to side. Then it locked onto Tomas. There was recognition there. Her lips pulled away from teeth as she hissed, then lunged at him.

Tomas screamed as her teeth clamped down on the side of his neck. He tried pulling her away by her hair, but only came up with clumps of the stuff as he ripped it from her scalp. He reached a hand out to Night Surgeon, begging for help, but the man looked down at them impassively, then stepped over his legs and continued down the hallway towards the elevators. The last thing Tomas saw before red clouded his sight was Night Surgeon opening a few more doors on his way and several subjects emerging from their rooms.


End file.
